


Balancing the Scale

by ironspidereilish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1, 5+1 Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Romance, Slow Burn, Training, gwen really just wants these idiots to realise they're in love, kinda ? idk, leon being awesome :)), our boys getting a happy ending like they deserve :))
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironspidereilish/pseuds/ironspidereilish
Summary: Five times Merlin didn't realise Arthur was protecting him, and the one time he did.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 89
Kudos: 1046





	1. Clumsy

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a 5 +1 fic of our favourite boys! Hope you like it and are staying safe <3  
> I wrote my first merthur fic (what they owe us) literally last month but needed to write another one asap so here we are :))

Arthur was barely listening to what his father was droning on about as they sat in the Hall with the councilmen to plan the upcoming visit from Cenred. He’d managed to avoid getting involved in organising the feast and which rooms they would be staying in, but he tuned back in immediately when he heard Uther mention his servant.

“And of course, your Merlin will be ordered to serve Cenred and his nobles for the duration of their stay, as it is tradition of the Royal Household’s servants when guests are staying,” the king said, with the scribe quickly taking note of his words.

“He can’t,” Arthur blurted, before he’d a chance to think through what he was going to say.

The councilmen turned to look at him, clearly surprised that he’d been paying attention.

Uther raised an eyebrow in question, and the prince felt his heart drop as he hurried to think of an excuse. Cenred was notorious for his harsh treatments of those who served him, with rumours circling the land of the torturous punishments he would mete to servants for making the most inconsequential mistake. Merlin could not – and _would_ not, if Arthur had any say in the matter- be subjected to serving that vile man. Knowing the amount of mistakes he made daily, he’d barely last an hour before Cenred ordered for him to be punished. The prince couldn’t just stand by and let that happen to the servant he, very begrudgingly of course, considered his friend.

“He is far too . . . clumsy to represent Camelot in the way it deserves,” he said, injecting as much confidence as he could into the words. Guilt rose in him when he flicked his gaze over to Merlin, who was standing by the Hall’s doors to serve him as required throughout the meeting, and saw the dark-haired man angle his body away from his prince so he could avoid eye contact without seeming insurbordinate. A small blush rose in the servant’s cheeks as he registered the king and councilmen snicker at him. Arthur tried his best to ignore the guilt and focus on protecting Merlin from Cenred’s wrath. “George is a fine servant who will be sure to meet every need Cenred and his men may require of him.”

The king watched Arthur closely, as if looking for an explanation behind this bizarre behaviour, but Arthur met his gaze unwaveringly. He had to keep Merlin safe from Cenred. He _had_ to.

“George will serve Cenred for their stay, then,” the king said, and the scribe scratched out his previous words and quickly scribbled down the new order. Uther looked to Merlin with an unreadable look on his face. “We wouldn’t want my son’s servant to show us up to the guests, would we?”

A few barks of laughter met the king’s question, and Arthur wished the floor would swallow him whole as the blush on Merlin’s cheeks burned darker with humiliation.

“No, your Highness,” one of the men said, grinning. “But perhaps Cenred would prove to be an effective teacher when it comes to serving nobles properly.”

The prince’s heart dropped.

“I would not wish to inflict my servant upon a king as esteemed as Cenred.”

“Arthur is right,” Uther acknowledged, “we do not want Cenred to think we are a kingdom of fools. George will serve Cenred as I had previously instructed.”

“Now there is just the matter of seating arrangements for the joust, your Highness,” a different man said, unrolling a scroll and beginning to run through the potential options. Arthur’s thoughts drifted from the discussion, letting his father’s voice fill the Hall as he thought about how Merlin would react after the council meeting ended.

Eventually, the men stood and bowed to the king as Uther rose and left the Hall. The councilmen turned to Arthur and bowed to him as they waited for him to leave.

Merlin opened the doors for him, not meeting his eye, and followed behind him. He kept a few respectful steps between them as they walked down the corridor and back to Arthur’s chambers. When the doors were closed behind them, Arthur’s chamber was filled with uneasy silence.

“What the _hell_ , Arthur?” Merlin asked, at the exact same time Arthur said “I’m sorry.”

They looked at each other, and Arthur rushed to explain himself before Merlin started getting angry. _Well_ , Arthur thought, _angrier than he already is_.

“Let me explain,” Arthur rushed, “and then I promise I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

Merlin just looked at him furiously. He waved a hand in the air for Arthur to speak, and the prince ignored his father’s voice in the back of his head telling him that prince’s take orders from nobody but their king or queen.

“That was for your own good,” the blonde began, and knew Merlin hadn’t taken his sentence the way Arthur meant it as his eyes blazed. “Not embarrassing you- I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of them,” he hastened to add, “but I couldn’t let you serve Cenred.”

“Because I’m clumsy and useless?” Merlin scoffed, but there was hurt in his voice.

“ _No_ ,” the blonde said, desperate for him to understand. “Surely you’ve heard about Cenred?”

“He’s a king, Arthur. Of course I’ve heard of him,” the brunette said flatly. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“So you know about how harshly he punishes servants? How he looks for any excuse to hurt them?”

Merlin blinked, and the prince took that to mean no.

“I know how clumsy you are, _Mer_ lin. And as annoying as it is, you’re never going to be any _less_ clumsy. Cenred won’t understand that, and he’ll try to beat it out of you,” Arthur said, hating the way his voice wavered slightly on the last sentence.

He saw the way Merlin’s eyes softened with understanding, and the blonde looked away as his cheeks flushed.

“I knew there had to be a reason you said all that stuff in the council meeting,” Merlin said happily, a goofy smile on his face. “You usually hide your hatred for me a lot better than that.”

Arthur flinched like he’d been slapped, his eyes wide with confusion.

“What? You honestly think I’d put up with the scuffs on my boots if I hated you?” he asked, bewildered. “I don’t hate you.”

“I know,” Merlin shrugged, still smiling at him brightly. “Just kidding. I don’t hate you either. Well, most of the time.”

“This is the thanks I get for trying to protect you from Cenred?” Arthur grumbled, mostly to himself. If possible, Merlin’s grin stretched even wider. “Thank you _so_ much, _Mer_ lin. Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

Merlin snorted, like someone had told him a joke that only he could hear, before sobering.

“I’ve saved your life more than you know, sire. This doesn’t even com close to balancing the scale,” he said, the smile on his face dimming slightly.

“What on earth are you talking about? I’d hardly constitute bringing me breakfast every morning as saving my life. I’m a prince- I’m more than capable of looking after myself, you know.” Arthur felt steadier, now that they’d returned to the easy banter he was familiar with. The notion of Merlin knowing how much he meant to him was out of the question, and the whole situation in the council meeting had left him on edge.

“You have a funny way of showing it, _my lord_.”

“ _Hey_!” Arthur exclaimed, knocking Merlin lightly over the head.

Before he knew it, they were both laughing as they play-fought. They rolled on the ground a few times before giving up, laying on their backs next to each other and staring up at the stone ceiling in comfortable silence. Arthur chose not to dwell for too long on the feeling of Merlin’s wrist against his, their skin touching.

“I can protect myself,” Merlin eventually said, his voice gentle. “Please don’t turn the councilmen against you by trying to look out for me.”

“I don’t care about the council members,” Arthur replied, simply. The _I care about you_ was audible to them both, despite never being said.

“They’re going to be the people who will help you pass laws when you’re king. You need them to be on your side if you’re going to be the king I know you can be.”

Arthur’s eyes traced the design on the ceiling, suddenly grateful for the fact that laying on their backs excused him from having to look his servant in the eye.

“I’m going to make a new council when I’m king, anyway,” he admitted quietly. It was the first time he’d voiced this thought, and he was curious about how the brunette would respond. “So I don’t care if they like me or not.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Merlin answered, his voice neutral. The blonde rolled his eyes.

“Speak your mind, Merlin. It’s not like you to hold your tongue about your opinions of my decisions.”

“The men on your father’s council hold similar views to him. I think it would be good for you as a king to surround yourself with people who you know have the same goals as you, but would be willing to tell you the truth. No matter how much they think you might not want to hear it,” Merlin said, and there was an undertone of pride in his words, like Arthur had exceeded his expectations.

The blonde exhaled in relief at his servant’s words, unaware of just how much his friend’s opinion meant to him.

“Well, it’s not like you ever withhold your opinions from me. I may as well make use of it,” he said, lightly.

A beat of silence passed.

“You mean that I’d be on your council?” he eventually asked, something akin to awe in his voice.

Arthur shrugged, his back growing numb on the solid floor.

“I don’t see why not. I’ve said before that you can – very, _very_ occasionally- have a wise moment,” he replied, hoping he sounded indifferent.

Merlin sat up and then got to his feet, smiling softly.

“I would be honoured to be on your council when you’re king,” he said, meaning every word.

Arthur coughed to clear his throat, then got to his feet, too.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Merlin,” he said, not sure why he was so adamant about ending the moment they were having. “I may yet change my mind.”  
If anything, that only made his smile wider, and the blonde couldn’t help but smile himself.

*******

Cenred arrived the following day, and George was exceptional at attending to him. Merlin had approached him that morning just to ensure that he knew of Cenred’s reputation, not that he had ever doubted George’s performance.

As expected, George was the perfect servant, and even Cenred seemed to find his service at least satisfactory. Arthur’s sighed in relief whenever Cenred called upon the servant, and was met with impeccable service. The prince knew that the king was attempting to catch him out, hoping that George would mess up so that he could be punished, and Camelot declared a disgrace, but there was no reason to doubt.

Each night, Merlin reported back to Arthur about updates that George gave him, and the pair were both impressed. As much as Merlin had been hurt by Arthur mocking him in the council meeting, and as much as he knew that he was- or, at the very least could be if he put his mind to it- a good servant, he was not foolish enough to even _think_ about claiming that he could out-serve George. That man really did live and breath serving nobles. And jokes about brass.

The only slight hiccup had been four nights into Cenred’s seven night stay. He had demanded some ale, so George had gone to the kitchen and fetched a pitcher of ale. After faithfully pouring Cenred a goblet and the king taking a small sip, he had spat the ale straight over George and been insistent that he’d asked for wine.

Determined not to let Cenred’s lie break his composure, or the responsibility that Arthur had placed upon him in putting him in a position to represent Camelot, George had immediately gone to fetch a pitcher of wine. Merlin had been in the kitchen getting Arthur’s dinner when George had burst inside in a panicked frenzy. He’d hastily explained the situation to Merlin, who instantly knew that George was telling the truth because it was _George_.

Merlin had instructed George to take Arthur his dinner and inform him of where Merlin was going, then took the pitcher of wine up to Cenred’s room. He knocked and waited for an answer before entering, willing himself to be the perfect servant for just a few minutes.

“Where’s the other one? And this better be wine, boy,” he growled.

“George apologises for the mistake, but I wanted to apologise in person, as it was my mistake. Prince Arthur had requested a pitcher ale, and I had taken the wine by mistake and left the ale where the wine was supposed to be. This is a fresh pitcher of wine, your Highness,” Merlin said, inclining his head respectfully as he placed the wine on the table and poured the king a fresh goblet.

“Would your precious prince allow such insolence?” the king asked, a look in his eye that just dared Merlin to answer incorrectly.

“No, your Highness,” he answered, struggling for a diplomatic answer that would spare George anything harsh. “I have been sentenced to a day in the stocks as punishment.”

“And you think I should sentence George to just one day in the stocks for disobeying me so overtly?” Cenred goaded.

Merlin knew better than this, from the years he had spent aound king Uther when he was accompanying Arthur.

“My opinion doesn’t matter, your Highness,” he said, voice carefully even.

The king nodded with a glint in his eye. “That’s right,” he taunted. “I should hope your prince knows that your opinion is irrelevant too.”

Again, Merlin avoided the trap- Cenred would expect a noble’s servant to know better than speaking on behalf of their master.

“I cannot speak on behalf of prince Arthur,” Merlin began, “but the prince has always been fair to the serving staff. I have heard that you, too, are fair.”  
It was a lie, plain and simple, but Merlin hoped it would be enough to convince Cenred to be lenient with George.

“Do you know what the punishment for such an error would be in my kingdom?” Cenred asked, something sinister in his voice as leaned forward and into the servant’s space. Before Merlin could even start formulating an answer to that, the king answered his own question. “Fifteen lashes and two day and nights in the stocks.”

The servant’s blood ran cold at the thought of George being subjected to such a punishment because of Cenred’s lies.

A knock at the door spared him from having to come up with a response, and he waited for Cenred’s instruction before opening it to let in the visitor.

Arthur stood at the door, shirt untucked and his sword sheathed haphazardly at his side, like he’d thrown it on before coming to visit the king. It was inappropriate attire for a crown prince to wear before a visiting king, but if Arthur’s slightly panicked scan of Merlin’s body for obvious injuries was anything to go by, he didn’t care anymore.

“Your Highness,” Arthur greeted, all signs of panic gone, “my apologies for the interruption. I was wondering where my servant had gone.”  
Merlin knew that was a lie as he’d specifically asked George to inform Arthur. Cenred nodded his head in acknowledgment, the nod too slight to really convey respect.

“He is just correcting the mistake of the other servant. He was spouting some bullshit about you being fair and just, blah, blah, blah.”

At recognising Cenred’s comment as criticism, and knowing that Cenred criticising a servant could very quickly lead to said servant being severely punished, Arthur’s body tensed. The movement would have been unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t Merlin, who knew from his years of service the way that Arthur hid his reaction.

“He meant no offence, your Highness,” Arthur excused, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. “He is just a . . . simple-minded fool. I apologise on his behalf.”

“You _apologise_ for your servant?” Cenred repeated, incredulously. “Are you not the crown prince of Camelot?”

“Camelot is known for her fair treatment of all of her people, of which servants are of course included. I am simply defending my servant’s observation that Camelot _is_ fair and just.”  
Merlin felt gratitude well up in him hearing Arthur defend him, he knew from experience that Arthur didn’t share the common royal view that servants were replaceable and their opinions did not count- but he couldn’t deny that hearing the blonde defend him _to another royal_ didn’t cause something warm settle in his chest. 

“I want the first servant punished for his insubordination, and this one punished for making a mistake in your service,” Cenred’s voice left no room for arguing, and Arthur didn’t even flinch at the suggestion that his friend be punished.

When Arthur nodded in agreement, Merlin had to force himself to remember that it was an act: the prince didn’t really want George and Merlin punished.

“A day in the stocks will teach them,” Arthur agreed, catching Merlin’s eye in reassurance that he would not allow Cenred to order harm to the two servants.

“That is hardly sufficie-“

“A day in the stock is an adequate punishment for a mistake that was easily rectified. No harm came from it, and it will certainly not happen again,” Arthur interrupted, with a pointed look at Merlin when he promised it was a one-time mistake. “A day in the stocks is fair, and I know that as the king of a fair and just kingdom yourself, this fair punishment well reflects the punishments that you mete.”

Merlin turned his head to hide the smirk on his face. Even Arthur seemed to be struggling to maintain a proper manner, stroking his chin in an attempt to hide the grin he was sporting.

Cenred’s mouth open and closed like a fish struggling for air.

“I- but- of course, prince Arthur, you are right. My kingdom is fair, and a day in the stocks is fair for their punishment. I am glad to see such . . . leniency present in Camelot, too,” Cenred said, face growing redder and redder as he lied through his teeth about the just nature of his kingdom.

“If it is okay with you, I will take my servant back to my chambers to serve me dinner. I will see you in the morning at the meeting,” Arthur said, making his way to the door despite Cenred not having given him permission to take Merlin. “Rest well, you Highness.”

Merlin grabbed the door, making sure Arthur was in front of him as was expected, but as the soon as the door was closed and the knew nobody could see them, he turned to his prince.

“That was amazing,” Merlin said, his eyes bright. Arthur was smiling softly at his reaction to the way he had handled Cenred, but he couldn’t deny that he was proud of himself too.

“Someone had to put that bastard in his place eventually. _Honestly_. Lying to George about what drink he wanted and then trying to punish him for it- what is wrong with him?” The blonde rolled his eyes, a little giddy from the way Merlin was looking at him.

“He told me that in his castle that would have meant _lashes_ ,” Merlin said, like the words tasted foul.

“Christ,” Arthur muttered. “Well, at least you’re safe now. A-and George too, obviously.”

“And we have you to thank for that. We don’t really have to spend a day in the stocks, do we?” he asked, knowing that the answer was no.

“Yes,” Arthur answered, and the brunette just blinked at him. “But I didn’t say it had to be a day each.”

The servant smirked at his prince, already forgiven for making them spend time in the stocks. It was basically Merlin’s second home anyway, after all these years.

“That’s bloody brilliant,” Merlin said, laughing. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh with him.


	2. Defenceless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next few chapters will be based on merlin episodes, but i've switched the canon timeline around a bit to flow better, hope you like it !

“Heard you’re coming to training again this afternoon,” Gwaine said, a smug look on his face. “Is the princess punishing you for something?”

“Don’t remind me,” Merlin groaned, as he polished Arthur’s chest plate in the armoury with renewed fervour. “And no, I haven’t done _anything_!”

“Are you sure? He’s made you come to every training session we’ve had since Cenred left,” Percival asked.

“At least now you know which way round you hold a sword, though,” Gwaine pointed out, and Elyan and Percival snorted with laughter. Even Leon chuckled lightly from where he was sharpening his sword.

Merlin threw the dirty rag in Gwaine’s direction and got a sense of satisfaction when it hit him square in the face. The knight gagged at the smell as he dropped it onto the floor. 

“I don’t _know_ why he keeps bringing me, but I’m supposed to be collecting herbs for Gaius while Arthur’s training. Do you think he’ll let me skip the training? It’s not like I’m a knight.”

“I’m sure if you explained that Gaius needed herbs to heal the sick he’d understand,” Leon said, ever the voice of reason. “He’s survived training sessions without you before, I’m sure he can do it again.”

Merlin sighed. “He’s just been so insistent that I join him. There really is no reasoning with that clotpole som-”

Leon, Elyan, and Pervical went suddenly quiet, the three of them glancing at the doorway behind the servant as Gwaine laughed to himself.

Merlin sighed again. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“Yep,” Gwaine grinned, popping the P. “Have fun getting killed by him at training, mate.”

And with that, the four knights left the armoury, Leon shooting him a sympathetic look as he walked past.

Arthur walked further into the room so he was facing Merlin, his face unreadable.

“You could have just asked if you could miss training,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m not going to stop you from helping Gaius if that’s what you need to do.”

Strangely, guilt filled the servant for having joked about the situation.

“No, it’s okay,” he backtracked. “I can collect them after dinner. It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”

Arthur nodded, a quietly pleased look on his face.

“Ready for me to put your armour on?” Merlin asked, picking up the freshly polished chest plate.

It was so clean that he peered at his reflection as he stepped closer to the prince. He held it in place as he started tightening the buckles, feeling oddly wrong-footed. The quiet as he helped Arthur don his armour was not the usual companiable silence- this was tense and awkward.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, as he finished the last piece of armour. “I shouldn’t have joked about training. I know it’s important to you.”

“It’s fine. You have to do what I say anyway, so even if you don’t want to be here, you wouldn’t leave.” His voice was still tight, and the brunette knew that it was far from “fine”.

“We both know that if I really didn’t want to come with you, I’d just tell you that I was going to help Gaius whether you liked it or not,” he said, attempting a smile that probably didn’t reach his eyes.

“True,” Arthur mused, his voice lighter after hearing Merlin’s response. “I’d have put you in the stocks though.”

“Good point. Anyway, don’t you have a wooden figure to you need to go and hit with your swords for no reason?”

********

“The pointed part is aimed _towards_ the enemy, Merlin,” Arthur grumbled.

Elyan grinned. “And here we were thinking that he knew which way to hold his sword,” he stage-whispered to the other knights.

“Shut up, Elyan. At least _he_ knows that his feet are supposed to be shoulder-width apart,” the prince snapped, although there was no real heat behind it.

“That’s never stopped me from slaying all my enemies, sire,” he answered, before elaborately spinning his sword in his grip in a perfect figure 8. Leon cuffed him over the back of the head good naturedly, gesturing for the knight to pay attention to Arthur’s demonstration.

“Merlin, I want you to practise your defence. God knows we’d never send you into battle on the offensive, but it would be good for you to be able to defend yourself. I’m going to approach you and show you a few blocks that would be most effective against an average sword-fighter,” the prince explained, before turning to the knights watching him. “Everyone else, pair up and practise the advanced offensive and defensive moves I taught you last week. Take it in turns so you can practise both types.”  
The large group of knights wordlessly paired up and began practising their moves, the steady clinking of metal against metal filling the open space.

Arthur faced Merlin, and slowly advanced with his sword held in an expert grip. Merlin gripped his own sword more tightly, twisting it so the – correct- end was facing the prince. Arthur took another two steps in quick succession until he swung the sword out and down towards the brunette’s left knee. Merlin flailed slightly before dropping his arm and meeting Arthur’s blow, raising his sword to curve the attacking sword away from him. Arthur’s eyes lit up as he realised the servant had successfully blocked his first attack out of the seven days they’s been training.

“Ha!” the prince exclaimed. “You did it!”

“Must have been my natural swordsmanship, though, because my teacher was terrible,” he grinned, his heart lightening when he elicited a chuckle from the blonde. “What happens now?”

“We go again and this time you block me consistently instead of just the once. Ready?” he asked, already raising his sword again.

Merlin distantly noticed that Gwaine and Leon were stood close together and watching the prince and servant’s movements. As Merlin managed to block four of Arthur’s attack moves in a row, with the blonde calling out to him about footwork and balance, Leon quietly murmured something into Gwaine’s ear that caused the knight’s eyes to widen. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Gwaine had been caught off guard.

The rest of the hour passed quickly, Arthur’s sword slicing through the air as Merlin hurried to block the movements. By the time training ended, the servant was sweaty and tired but had managed to block six of Arthur’s attacks in a row. The prince’s cheeks were a little rosy from exertion, but the bright smile on his face as he walked back with Merlin and the knights to the armoury was what really stood out.

As the knights started taking off their armour and handing to the aides in charge of polishing for Camelot’s fighters, Gwaine kept glancing between Merlin, who was removing Arthur’s armour, and Leon.

Curiosity clawed at Merlin, who had eventually had enough. As he was unbuckling the shoulder plate on the prince’s right shoulder, he voiced it.

“What is going on with you?” he asked Gwaine. “Want to give me a few pointers about my sword work? Because I won’t be offended, honest.”

His friend met Arthur’s eyes with an unreadable expression.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on Princess’s teaching,” he settled for, and although his voice was light, he didn’t look away from Arthur.

“Okaaaaay,” Merlin said, dragging out the final vowel to convey his bewilderment. “I have no idea what I’m missing.”

“It’s nothing, Merlin,” Leon interjected, with a pointed look at Gwaine who promptly shut his mouth.

“If you’re sure . . .” the servant trailed off, uncertain.

Arthur picked on the servant’s discomfort and turned to hid oldest friend to try and resolve the matter.

“Has anything happened that I need to be aware of?” He asked Leon, knowing that Leon wouldn’t lie to him.

“No, sire,” the knight answered. “Gwaine just needs to learn when to stay quiet.”

“Well, it’s nothing that you aren’t already aware of, Princess,” Gwaine interrupted, a cheeky look in his eye as he looked between the prince and servant.

Leon threw his hands in the air in an uncharacteristic display of annoyance. “ _This_ is a moment that you should learn you need to stay quiet in, Gwaine!” He half-shouted., before turning to his leader and speaking at a normal volume. “It’s nothing, Arthur. I promise that if it was important, I would have told you.”

The blonde nodded. “I know you would.”

“So nothing’s happened?” Merlin asked, as he piled Arthur’s dirty armour in his arms and made his way to the door so he would clean them with better equipment than the dirty rag he’d used earlier.

“No,” Leon confirmed.

“Alright, I’m off then. I’ll see you when I bring your dinner up, sire,” Merlin said.

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur called, and the servant popped his head back into the room.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Don’t forget that after you’ve polished my armour, you need to mop and dry my floor, heat me a bath, and muck out my horses,” he ordered, desperately trying to school the smile off of his face.

Merlin groaned.

“But I still need to eat my own dinner and get those herbs for Gaius,” he complained.

“Better get a move on then. Sounds like you have a lot to get done tonight, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin simply groaned again and left the room.

He couldn’t deny the smile that ordering Merlin about brought to his lips any longer and was rewarded with a knowing smile from Leon.

Gwaine grumbled something under his breath before facing his prince. He lifted a hand, pointing the finger right in Arthur’s face, accusingly.

“If you hurt him, I’ll kill you before you can even see me coming. Princess or not,” Gwaine threatened. Arthur blinked.

“What on earth are you talking about? And you can’t threaten a prince!” he argued, mind reeling.

“You and Merlin, obviously. And I can threaten anyone I like, if they’re trying to get in my best mate’s pants,” he answered, the most seriously that Arthur had ever heard him. Even if he _was_ talking rubbish.

“He’s my _servant_!” Arthur shouted, like that was a valid defence. “And I don’t want to be anywhere near Merlin’s pants. Now or ever, thank you very much.”

Leon rolled his eyes as he turned to hand his armour to a nearby aide, thinking that Arthur wouldn’t catch it.

“You have something to add to this, Leon?” Arthur demanded, but there was no real threat behind the words.

The knight sighed resignedly, as though he’d been hoping to stay of it.

“What Gwaine means is that we know why you bring Merlin to training with you. And it’s not because you need him to pick your sword up for you every time you drop it.”

Gwaine muttered something his breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘ _as long as that’s the only sword of Arthur’s that he’s picking up_ ’, but Arthur couldn’t be bothered to call him out on it.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” Arthur said, honestly.

Gwaine just looked at him, as if deciphering some hidden message on his face before eventually looking to Leon, helplessly.

Leon shrugged, like Arthur was a lost cause.

“Alright then,” Gwaine said, eventually. “In that case I’m sorry for threatening you. And suggesting that you’d ever be good enough to get in Merlin’s pants.”

“Um, thanks?”

Gwaine grinned, like he’d already forgotten about it. “You’re welcome, princess.”  
Leon sighed. “Just _go_ , Gwaine. Please. Before you dig yourself an even deeper hole,” the knight said, half-begging.

Gwaine left with grin.

“Leon,” Arthur began, keeping his voice down as the last view knights left and the armoury door closed behind them so they were alone,“tell me what’s going on. I know you’ve always been the most respectful of my status, but you know I don’t really care about that. I’m a knight, too. And you’re my friend. I need you to tell me the truth.”

Leon’s face softened with sympathy. He forgot that as much as Arthur was always surrounded by people, he could only really consider the knights of the round table and his servant – although he’d probably never admit it to Merlin’s face- his friends. That wasn’t many people to trust.

“We know that you started bringing Merlin along to training because him being do defenceless around Cenred scared you,” he said gently. Uther’s voice in the back of his mind yelled at him that _‘princes don’t get scared Arthur!_ ’ but as he opened his mouth to voice this, Leon continued over him. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared, Arthur, no matter what your father taught you. And it’s absolutely okay to be scared when your friend has no way to protect himself from someone that could very easily have had him hurt.”

A beat of silence passed, Leon looking at him earnestly as he waited for a response.

“You’re right,” the prince admitted quietly, like it was shameful, and Leon felt his heart break for his friend. “I hated when Merlin was around Cenred, knowing that he couldn’t fight back if he needed to. And even though I might not consciously have planned it, having him learn to fight was probably because of the visit last week. I don’t want to see him hurt. So maybe training him is making me feel more able to keep him safe. Is that wrong?”

“Wrong because he’s a servant?” Leon asked, and Arthur nodded.

“You swore an oath, we knights _all_ swore an oath, to protect the people of Camelot. It could never be wrong to uphold that oath. And it is definitely not wrong to want to keep your friends safe,” the knight said simply. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Arthur fidgeted his hands. “Do you think Merlin minds?”

“I think that the only reason he minds is because he doesn’t understand your insistence that he comes with you,” Leon answered. “If he knew you were doing it with his best interests at heart, he would be more understanding of it, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur said, patting the man’s shoulder with a smile. “Now I need to go and see if Merlin has actually managed to do what I asked him to do, although I doubt he has.”

His smile was reflected on Leon’s face. “I don’t think Merlin ever managed to do what you ask him to. But you don’t mind,” he observed, knowingly.

Arthur climbed the few steps to the armoury door, before turning back. “I’d appreciate your discretion on this conversation,” the prince said, avoiding what Leon had just said for fear of embarrassing himself with his sentimentality further.

“Of course, sire.”

********

As his chamber door closed behind him and he pulled his boots off, Arthur saw Merlin heaving a bucket of steaming water off the ground and into his bathtub. The bath was barely even half full yet, but the floor had indeed been mopped and dried.

A single drop of water splashed from the bucket onto the floor at Merlin’s feet, and Arthur decided to do what he did best.

“Did I or did I not tell you that I wanted this room dried after you mopped it?” He asked, sarcastically.

Merlin turned to him, his brows pulled into a straight line in annoyance.

“I _did_ ,” he retorted, throwing his free arm in the air to draw the prince’s attention to the nearly perfectly cleaned room. “Or have you gone blind now as well as dumb?”

The blonde strode over to the tub, squatting down so he was level with the brunette’s knee as he jerked a finger at the single drop of water and tried to keep himself from laughing at the expression on his servant’s face.

“Firstly, you can’t talk to me like that or I’ll have you sacked,” he said, although his voice was light. “Secondly,” he began, punctuated with another aggressive point at the drop, “that is _water_. On the _floor_. _Water_ on the _floor_ that I _specifically_ asked you dry.”

“Clotpole,” Merlin muttered under his breath, and Arthur pretended not to hear it. “That’s the only drop of water on this whole floor. Do you know how many jobs I have to do tonight? I still have to finish heating water for your bath, muck out your horses, bring your dinner up, get Gaius the herbs he needs, _then_ help him make the medicine he needs for tomorrow’s regulars, and _then_ eat my own dinner and sleep before I’m back here to wake you up. I think you can cope with a single drop of water on the floor,” he argued, with a half-irritated huff of air.

Arthur didn’t even bother to bite back the grin he’d been trying to hide. “Chop, chop, then,” he teased. “Although this water does pose a very, very dangerous water hazard to a member of the royal family.”

Merlin went stock-still, just staring at Arthur- who seriously considered that maybe his servant had started malfunctioning. Just when he was becoming unnerved by Merlin’s stillness, the brunette broke out into a wide grin and grabbed the prince’s leg, pulling it forward, before the blonde could protest, so his socked foot absorbed the drop of water.

“There!” the servant exclaimed. “You managed to reign champion over that _terrifying_ water hazard. Amazing job, my lord. It was a true show of selflessness and bravery.”

“You absolute buffoon!” Arthur shouted, but he was smiling despite himself.

“Tales will be told when you’re king, about how you went head to head with an entire drop of water and narrowly avoided succumbing to its hazardous nature,” Merlin grinned, and then snorted with laughter when he caught the indignant look on the prince’s face.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing. Training starts at sunrise, and I had been thinking about letting you sleep in instead, but not after this,” Arthur said, with a mock-haughty tone, and Merlin sobered almost immediately, although he was still laughing.

“Arthur, I take it back! I’ll hand dry the wet sock myself!”

The blonde shook his head. “You made your bed when you decided to use your prince as a glorified dry-mop, now it’s time to lie in it,” he teased.

“ _Arthur_! I take it back!”

“Too late now,” the prince shrugged, as something warm filled him at the sight of Merlin laughing and happy and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos mean a lot, and stay safe everyone <33


	3. Starving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is set within 1x11 the labyrinth of gedref but with extra protective merthur :))))  
> hope you like it!

Camelot was cursed. No food or water, just ruined crops and sand. And it was all Arthur’s fault.

He’d slayed the unicorn to make his father proud, ignoring Merlin’s protests that the unicorn had done nothing wrong and there was no purpose for killing it; the prince had never paid heed to his servant’s protests before, so why would he have started with the unicorn? It had seemed outrageous- right up until Gaius had confirmed that Merlin had been right all along when he’d cautioned Arthur against killing such a pure creature.

The servant was too nice to gloat, and in fact even hated that there was no way for him to ease the guilt on the prince’s face when he saw Camelot’s starving citizens lining up for food in the castle’s courtyard. They didn’t have food to give the people, and Arthur felt the cry of every starving child like a punch to the gut. When Merlin left for the night, both of their stomachs growling desperately for sustenance, the blonde crawled into bed and cried pitifully until he fell into restless tossing and turning. How was he to supposed to fix this? Anhora had spoken of tests, and he believed that allowing the thief to take a small bag of grain for his family had been the right thing to do; but the lack of food would not allow Arthur to be so lenient if the situation repeated itself, however. No matter how much he may want to be.

He’d visited Gaius that morning, to take inventory of the herbs that he may be able to fetch in order to ease some of the pains and ailments caused by the starvation and dehydration, to find that the physician had been purifying Merlin’s bath water for them to drink. Guilt clawed within him as he realised that the castle’s staff had obviously been instructed that the remnants of water were to be saved for Uther, Arthur, and Morgana.

Arthur had unclipped his small bottle of water, handing it to Gaius with the needless instruction of using it sparingly for him and Merlin. The physician had refused, and when Merlin walked in on them both refusing to accept the bottle and learned of the situation, he had told Arthur in no uncertain terms to take the water or he would make the blonde regret it.

The prince was ashamed of the images his mind conjured- namely, detailed images of two bodies tumbling in his royal sheets- but reluctantly accepted the water back when it was clear that his endeavour was futile.

As he awoke from his restless sleep, Merlin walked in with a small pitcher, half-full of clean water.

“Gwen tried the water pump this morning and _look_!” he exclaimed, a relieved smile on his face even as Arthur heard his stomach rumbling. “The water’s back- letting the man take food for his family must have been Anhora’s first test. You did it, Arthur!”

The blonde let his head drop in dismay, unable to let his mind congratulate himself for remedying only a portion of the problem that he had caused in the first place.

“I cannot rejoice when my people are still starving,” Arthur snapped, seeing Merlin’s shoulders slump from the corner of his eyes as the prince stared down at his lap.

“You know that wasn't how I meant it,” the brunette said quietly, setting the pitcher down and pouring Arthur a generous goblet full. “But the water has returned, so you passed the Keeper’s first test. I’m sure the second test will follow soon, and then the curse will be lifted and Camelot’s people will not be hungry anymore.”

He pushed the goblet of water closer to the prince, an unvoiced instruction to drink. Arthur’s gaze finally flicked up to meet his servant, who was looking at him in concern.

“Has all the water come back?” Arthur asked, instead. “The wells are completely replenished?”

“Not all of it, but there is enough that the people will mostly be able to get by until the wells are completely full again. This pitcher was all I was able to get for you. Your father has been informed that the pumps will be back to normal by the day after tomorrow at the latest, but the people will not suffer for much longer without water.”

“Did you and Gaius get a pitcher?” The blonde inquired, tendrils of relief coiling in his stomach at the knowledge that there was no longer a risk of dehydration for the people.

The servant hesitated, like he was unsure of whether an honest answer would be well received.

“Not yet,” he eventually settled on.

“You’re not telling me something,” Arthur observed, his rising intonation still showing that he wanted an answer.

“By the time I got to the courtyard, the pitchers had already been accounted for. I was only able to get you this because the kitchen had received orders from the King to ensure that enough was set aside for the three of you,” the servant answered, and Arthur felt that previous guilt stir again.

He poured the goblet Merlin had poured him back into the pitcher, pushing the container towards the servant with a hand gesturing to it.

“Take mine for you and Gaius,” the blonde instructed. “This is my fault, so it isn’t fair that I get water over the people who played no part in this curse.”

“Absolutely not,” came Merlin’s quick response, conviction in his tone. “I’m not taking water from you, Arthur. I’m just a servant.”

 _You’re not_ just _anything_ , the prince thought, anger filling him at the self-deprecation in his friend’s tone. _I can’t drink this water if you will suffer for it._

“That was an order, Merlin,” Arthur admonished. Defiance sparked in the brunette’s eyes as he crossed his arms at the instruction.

“I’m not taking your water,” he repeated firmly. “Order or not.”

Arthur couldn’t resist letting the anger fill him at the defiance, it was so much _easier_ for him to feel than the guilt and the concern. The anger suddenly flared brightly, overshadowing everything else.

“This is _my_ fault!” he yelled, and- bizarrely- Merlin’s eyes simply softened with pity at the admission. This only fuelled his burning fury at the unfairness of the situation. “Just _take it_!”

Merlin didn’t move, and his posture showed that he felt no fear in the face of his prince’s outburst. The blonde’s throat closed with emotion, his vision blurring.

“Merlin, _please_ ,” Arthur begged now, voice cracking. He no longer cared about embarrassing himself in front of Merlin- he had moved past that point a long, long time ago. Dehydration was the problem, and this pitcher before him was the solution- it was something he could _protect Merlin from,_ if he could just convince the buffoon to take it. “Please just take the water. I can’t let you go without.”

“And I can’t let you go without either,” the servant answered, his own voice wavering. “How about a compromise?”

And without waiting for a reply, the brunette took another goblet from the cabinet and poured out two. The servings were nearly equal in content, but he still stubbornly pushed the slightly fuller goblet to Arthur as he took a seat next to the prince. Merlin took a small, reverent sip of the cool water, tipping his head back as his eyes fell closed in appreciation.

Arthur’s concern lessened minutely at seeing the main source of its worry finally be able to drink water.

“Your turn,” Merlin said, with a cheeky smile on his face. He’d clearly seen the relief written all over Arthur’s features, but he didn’t comment or ridicule the prince for it- not that the blonde had even considered that he would.

“Fine,” the prince huffed, taking a few sips. He couldn’t deny it was glorious, especially compared to the lukewarm, stale-tasting water that he had been drinking for the past few days.

Merlin was acutely aware of how close he was sitting to Arthur, their legs brushing against each other as he watched the blonde’s lips closing around the rim of the goblet. The moment was broken when the servant’s stomach rumbled again, and then suddenly he was looking straight into the prince’s blue eyes. They were wide with concern, but he knew that his own eyes betrayed his worry for Arthur. The guilt he knew the man had been drowning in despite not having acted to deliberately bring about the curse still worried him.

But for now, they just sat for a few minutes drinking in the sight of each other, thighs still touching from their seats. Arthur lifted a hand, moving it as if he was going to cup Merlin’s cheek, but was suddenly unsure of whether the touch would be welcome. He had the very vaguest of suspicions that it _would_ be welcomed, maybe even encouraged, but the fear of rejection forced him to drop the hand onto the servant’s shoulder. He squeezed his friend’s shoulder with a reassuring smile, unwilling to let his gaze linger on the way the man’s bright eyes dimmed slightly in disappointment.

“I think you’re right. The second test must be close,” Arthur said, seemingly out of the blue, breaking whatever moment they had been building towards.

Merlin stood and coughed to clear his throat; he refused to let his voice break just because he had considered for a moment that maybe his feelings for Arthur were reciprocated. He reminded himself that he was a servant and Arthur was a prince and although they were companionable- that was all a man of Arthur’s status could ever allow them to be. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as he tried to remember what Arthur had said.

“Um, yeah,” he answered, ineloquently. “Probably by the end of the week, considering how soon the first test happened.”

The servant took the pitcher, remembering that Arthur had wanted it to be taken to Gaius.

“I’ve got some jobs to do for Gaius, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Arthur nodded, a wordless dismissal, and Merlin left without saying anything else. The door closed behind him leaving Arthur all alone in the overwhelming silence of his chamber,

*******

He had failed the second test. His own, _stupid_ hubris had gotten in the way- how could one man’s words questioning his honour have led to him condemning his people to starvation?

_You have failed the test. For this, Camelot will pay dearly._

Those were the words Anhora had spoken to him, like the whistling sound of an axe coming for his head on the chopping block.

 _Your people’s suffering is not my doing_ , the Keeper had said, before he meted one final, damning blow. _It is yours._

And with that, Arthur had been left in the dirt with nothing but the knowledge that he had sentenced Camelot's people to death. He lay there, eyes blown and panicked, staring at the space where had Anhora had stood before he’d vanished, praying to every God he knew that they help him find a way to fix this.

“Arthur!” his servant yelled, scrambling up the muddy slope. “Arthur!”

He saw the moment Merlin realised that his prince was a failure, those blue eyes that Arthur loved so much frantically searching their surroundings as though he could pluck a solution out of thin air.

“We need to get back to Camelot,” Merlin said, voice hoarse. “We need to know what will happen to the curse now.”  
Merlin placed no accusation in the utterance- Arthur would have tried his best, of this he had no doubt- but Arthur’s mind still tacked a _now that you have failed us_ onto his friend’s words.

The servant must have seen the distraught look on his face, for he dropped to his knees beside his prince and took the man’s hands in his. It was improper for a servant to touch their master this way, especially without permission, but Arthur held on tightly like it was a lifeline.

“I- Anhora- the test-“ the blonde stuttered, the blood draining from his face as the shock sunk in.

“Shh,” Merlin soothed. “You tried your best. The people know you would do anything for them. We’ll fix this.”

Arthur let himself fall into Merlin’s words, trying to ignore the guilt he felt when he realised that most of his panic was more due to the fact that Merlin would go hungry, than the fact that his people would go hungry.

********

The pair had returned to Camelot to see King Uther crumbling a handful of grains between the creased leather of his black gloves, the grain floating away like dust as it caught in the wind.

“All our remaining supplies have rotted,” Uther had informed them, grim acceptance in his voice. “Every last grain.”

The King had told his son that there were meagre emergency stores within the castle, enough to feed the King and the half-siblings for a few days. Arthur had been ordered to help ensure that this information did not become public knowledge, and Arthur had reluctantly agreed. He and his father were vital instruments for ending the curse- they would be rendered useless if they starved to death. Morgana was not needed intrinsically for them to fix this, but the King would never let her go hungry and neither would Arthur. She protested heavily as she wished for her share to be given to the starving children, but Uther threatened every last member of staff in the castle with execution if they allowed Morgana to starve.

Arthur hated the idea of his people going hungry while the castle still provided him with three, albeit very small, meals a day. He particularly hated the idea of _Merlin_ going hungry.

This feeling grew exponentially when Merlin brought the prince’s dinner in and set it on the table. Arthur noticed that he didn’t let his eyes so much as drift in the general direction of the food, as though seeing it would worsen his hunger. Arthur gestured for the servant to sit, and then divided the meal up perfectly into half, offering a spoon to the brunette. He had learned from the situation with the water pitcher that they were both stubborn when it came to looking after the other, and the quickest way to get Merlin to agree to helping himself was to show him that this would not be at Arthur’s expense.

“I can’t take your food from you,” Merlin refused, not unkindly. “A few spoonful’s of beans and three slices of dried meat is not enough nutrients for you as it is.”

His stomach rumbled at the end of his utterance, and Arthur’s determination grew.

“Merlin, just eat the food. There is no more in Camelot and I will not stand by and watch you starve if I can help it. Who would polish my armour and muck out my horses?”

The servant smiled at him, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have said yourself that George makes a fine servant, sire.”

“That may be the case,” Arthur began, shrugging, “but who would bother me with mindless chatter while I tried to go about my duties? _Eat_.”

Merlin rolled his eyes but accepted the spoon; he seemed to accept that, like with the water Arthur had finally ended up convincing him to share, refusing to eat would lead him nowhere. The prince was just preparing to voice his triumph when Merlin pushed more beans onto Arthur’s side of the plate, along with half a slice of meat.

Arthur pushed it back in silence. They both just looked at each other for a moment.

“I’m not eating until you do,” Arthur pointed out, unashamed to be using Merlin’s constant desire to keep his master safe against him.

“Fine,” Merlin huffed, spooning a few beans into his mouth and shooting Arthur a pointed look. “Happy now?”  
“Delighted,” the blonde humoured, scooping some beans of his own onto his fork and eating them slowly, savouring them.

Dinner continued with what would have been considered a lively discussion were Camelot not still cursed and suffering, until Merlin gathered the cutlery and the scraped-clean plate into his arms.

“Don’t bother taking that back,” Arthur said, and the brunette cocked his head in a silent question. The blonde ignored him. “See you at sunrise.”  
“See you at sunrise,” Merlin echoed, with a confused look on his face.

*******

Arthur busied himself for an hour, allowing himself to be absolutely certain that he would not run into Merlin on his way. When the hour had passed, he took the cutlery and dirty plate from the table and strode to the kitchens, unsuccessfully trying not to focus on his guilt as he took in the starving staff members he passed in the castle’s corridors.

He rounded a final corner and entered the kitchen to find only two members of staff in there, both chatting with their backs to him as they washed up. The blonde supposed that it didn’t take more than a couple of people to prepare, cook, and clean up after three small meals.

He cleared his throat to alert them of his presence, barely suppressing a grimace when they took one panicked look at the prince in their kitchen then immediately straightened their backs and curtsied clumsily, stomachs growling like feral cats.

Arthur sometimes forgot that Merlin and Gwen were the only staff he associated with; that this was the proper way of greeting a member of the royal family. He hated the formality and now especially, with the guilt clawing at him from the inside out, wished they would not act as though he'd have them lashed for so much as breathing in a way that may anger him.

“At ease, soldiers” he said, with a small, joking smile. The servants just looked at him, each with their hands clasped in the proper manner on the fabrics of their long skirts. Clearly, they thought his words were in jest, and that they might be punished for not acting respectfully. The prince decided to continue. “I have come to ask a favour, if you don’t mind.”  
“Of course, my lord,” the older of the two women answered, immediately. “Anything.”

“I know that there are emergency reserves that are being used for Morgana, my father, and I, but I ask that my meals are delivered to Gaius’ chamber instead.”

The younger servant, her green eyes first glancing anxiously to her elder, and then back to Arthur, took a nervous breath. “Will you be eating the meals?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“No, they are for my servant, actually. He is exerting himself far more than I am, and needs the energy more than I do,” the prince said.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the older woman said, and her tone was carefully even, as though she believed she would incur his wrath for such a statement. “King Uther ordered us to make sure that his son and his ward were eating the meals. I would never dare to presume his Highness’ mind, but I think he had reason to believe that you may donate it to the common people, or the servants.”

There was a distinctly disapproving undertone to the words, subtle enough that Arthur wondered if he’d imagined it, that suggested she believed that the common people and servants warranted the food more than the royals. His mind blanked as he considered a way to resolve this that wouldn’t put the women in the position of having to go against their king.

“If I asked you to deliver half of each meal to my servant, and half of each meal to me, I would still be eating the food . . . ” Arthur suggested, trailing off.

“You would be putting Aurelia and I in a difficult position,” the older woman said, clearly regaining some of her assertiveness now she had decided Arthur posed no threat, “making us bend the King’s rules.”

“I would protect you if he found out,” the prince promised. “You would not be breaking the rules, and I would say that I gave you no choice.”

“You would do that for us?” The girl- apparently Aurelia- asked in surprise.

“It is very . . . important to me that my servant keeps his energy up so he can serve me efficiently,” Arthur said. “I would be indebted to you.”

The women exchanged a look that Arthur couldn’t decipher, before the younger beamed at him even as her stomach rumbled again.

“We will do as you ask, prince Arthur,” she told him, and although he would deny it, his knees nearly collapsed in relief. Part one of his task had been put in motion, now it was just time to secure the second part.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he breathed, hoping his gratitude seeped into his words. “Thank you both so much. Anything you need, in the future, come and see me. I owe you both more than you can know.”

They smiled, curtsying again, and Arthur thanked them both once more. He bid them goodnight and then left for Gaius’ chamber.

He knocked lightly, letting out a tense breath when the old man opened the door.

“Where is Merlin?” he asked.

“He has gone to seek out Anhora and convince him that if you pass one final test he should lift the curse entirely, and count the second test as invalid,” Gaius informed him honestly, a tinge of anxiety in his voice.

Arthur was stunned to silence, but comforted somewhat by the fact that Anhora would not harm his servant. He came to the frustrating conclusion that there was nothing that could be done about stopping Merlin now, anyway. He hoped that Anhora would listen.

“No, I, um, need to speak with you about him,” Arthur eventually said, and worry filled the physician’s eyes.

“Are you alright, sire?” he asked, voice filled with concern for his apprentice. “Has Merlin done something wrong?”

The blonde shook his head. “Merlin has done nothing but look out for me throughout this curse, I thought it would only be fair to reward him for it.”

It was not his desire to _reward_ his friend for looking after him, but rather the overwhelming need to protect him from going hungry. He found himself too embarrassed to admit this to the old man.

“I see,” Gaius said, his voice neutral. “What is the nature of this reward?”

“I wish to split my meals with him, but he is determined that he will not take anything from me. Will you help me make him eat? He won’t listen to me, no matter what I say.”  
There was a mischievous glint in the old man’s eyes when he answered that surprised Arthur with its youthfulness. “Yes, I will make sure he eats what they bring.”

A relived smile graced the prince’s lips, and Gaius regarded him carefully.

“You cannot bear to see him go hungry,” the physician observed, like he had acquired this fact directly from the blonde’s mind.

The blonde fidgeted his hands, suddenly unable to meet the man’s eyes.

“No,” he murmured, cheeks heating. He was caught off guard when Gaius pulled him into a hug, but his hands almost subconsciously wrapped themselves around the old man. There was a familiarity to hugging Gaius that almost brought him to tears. Uther was not a tactile man, and Arthur had grown up with the only positive physical reinforcement in his childhood coming from his physician- who had always cared about Arthur like he was his own son.

“I will make sure he eats what they bring,” the man repeated, firmly. “You and Merlin just focus on getting the curse lifted. He will make Anhora see sense tonight, and then all you need to do is pass his last test. It will all work out, my boy.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” Arthur whispered, his forehead resting on the man’s shoulder.

“Do not thank me yet, you have a long talk with Merlin due when this is all over,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice.

The prince exhaled. “I know,” he admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave a comment/feedback !  
> and i've nearly finished chapter 4 so as soon as it's written i'll post it, stay safe everyone <3


	4. Hunted

Aredian’s arrival had not been released to public knowledge- he had been greeted at the castle doors by Uther and Arthur, then led almost immediately into the great Hall for a briefing on the magic emergency. The King was adamant that sorcery had become a kingdom-wide issue and had appealed to the Witchfinder for a hasty solution.

Arthur wasn’t sure how he felt about this man who claimed to be able to detect sorcery with a single line of questioning. He remembered Morgause’s vision of his mother and the complete, childish delight it had sparked in him- at least until he had been told that the vision had been falsified. But still, he still could not forget the pure joy he had felt being held tightly in his mother’s arms; could all magic be evil if it was capable of creating such goodness?

Then there was the matter of Merlin. The servant seemed content to go about his life believing that his master was as oblivious as a baby fresh from the womb, but Arthur _knew_. They had been on a hunt- just the two of them- and the prince had gone to fetch water while Merlin took out his flint to light a fire. As Arthur had left their temporary camp, he had heard Merlin swear colourfully as he attempted to spark the flint. After he’d collected the water from a nearby running stream, he had caught sight of the luminous gold in his friend’s eye, followed a split second later by a luminous gold flame roaring to life on the dry logs they had collected.

So, he now knew his friend was a sorcerer, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that the man would wish to cause harm, reinforce by the fact that he knew from experience that Merlin wished no harm to anyone. Especially if his indignant protests defending the prey his prince sought on hunts was anything to go by.

 _Merlin had magic. Aredian identified and executed those with magic. Aredian therefore posed a_ threat _to Merlin._

Arthur found this to be unacceptable, and had spent the duration of the man’s briefing with his father trying to think of ways he could keep his servant at opposite ends of the castle from the Witchfinder at all times until the man’s visit ended. The blonde couldn’t help the exasperated part of his brain that brought to mind various images of the Merlin’s obvious use of magic since the incident with the fire.

Although Arthur hadn’t decided the best way to tell his friend that he knew about the sorcery without panicking him irreversibly, he wished there was a way for him to convey to Merlin that he would protect him. At all costs.

******

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled from his chamber, hoping the servant was somewhere in the nearby corridors to _hurry up_ and bring his dinner. He’d left to fetch the prince’s meal nearly twenty minutes ago, and by now he should definitely have been back.

He shouted the man’s name a few more times before dread settled coldly in his stomach. The blonde left his room and made his way to the kitchen just in time to see George collect his meal. The servant looked like he had a mild cardiac arrest when he turned around and found himself face-to-face with Arthur.

“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur asked him, noticing the fearful looks sent his way from the surrounding kitchen staff. A member of the royal family in their kitchen never brought good news. “He was supposed to be serving me dinner, not you.” Although his words were ostensibly harsh, the worry in his voice betrayed the indifference he had tried to emit.

“I don’t know, my lord,” George said, stumbling over the words. “I just saw that your food was still here and that it was later than you usually eat and thought that maybe Merlin was otherwise engaged.”  
“So you don’t know where he is?”

“No, sire. If I see him, do you want me to pass on a message?”

Arthur waved him off. “I’ll find him.”

He thanked the staff for their hard work, not wanting them to fear him, and then left the kitchen without so much as a backwards glance.

He needed to find Merlin.

Just as he was rounding the corner of the corridor that stemmed from the kitchen, he collided into a familiar, brown-haired and blue-eyed man, both of them staggering backwards from the force.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed, trying to hide his relief. The relief was short-lived however, when the servant lifted his gaze from the scuffed toes of his shoes, and the prince saw his distress. The man was hunched over and pale, his eyes glistening like he was holding back tears. Anxiety nearly brought Arthur to his knees.

“What’s happened, Merlin? Has someone hurt you?” he asked, worry seeping into the words.

Merlin shook his head, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet.

“M’fine,” he mumbled, clearly not fine at all. “Aredian wanted to ask me some questions.”

The blonde’s breathing picked up, the blood rushing loudly in his ears.

“Questions about the horses in the smoke?” Arthur asked, and Merlin nodded absently. “He can’t just . . . just _take_ _you_ without telling me! You’re my fr- _servant_ ; I need to be informed of such events.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered, apparently having misunderstood Arthur’s statement to mean that the delay to dinner had angered him. “I’ll fetch your dinner now.”  
“It wasn’t dinner I was worried about,” the prince snapped, frustration at having been unable to keep Merlin away from Aredian flaring. “He has obviously said something that’s upset you. Did he threaten you?”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” the brunette said, his voice clipped. “Just leave it.”

“Not when you’re clearly upset!” Arthur half-cried, throwing his arms in the air. “Merlin, _please_. What happened?”

“ _Nothing_!” Merlin shouted, his own temper rising. “I’m just angry because I didn’t see what the witness claims to have seen. I don’t want someone to be executed for something they didn’t do, is all.”

The prince sighed. “Why would she have made it up? She gains nothing from such a story,” he said, not unkindly.

“Even if it was true,” Merlin began, his voice cracking with emotion, “what does it matter? He- _they_ were clearly not doing any harm.”

 _Oh_ , Arthur thought, like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place and leaving him with the bigger picture at last, _Merlin is the one who conjured the horses_.

“You conjured them,” Arthur said, quietly, but Merlin flinched backwards like the blonde had dealt him a heavy strike across the cheek.

“What are you talk- no, I – of _course_ not,” the brunette stammered, his eyes wide and pleading. “I’m not a sorcerer!”

“I’m starving,” Arthur said, with a pointed glance around them. “Let’s finish this discussion in my chamber while I eat.” There was no room for refusal in the words, so they quickly made their way to the prince’s chamber in tense silence.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Merlin whirled round to face him. “Arthur, please-“

“I’ve known for a while that you have magic,” the prince interrupted, his voice calm. He wanted to ease his friend’s mind that he would be safe, not unnecessarily frighten him. “I won’t tell anyone, Merlin. You have my word as a prince.”  
“You’re wrong,” the servant denied. “I don’t have magic.”

“I saw you light the fire months ago- when you couldn’t get the flint to spark. I’m not scared of you, and I know you won’t cause harm with your powers.”

Merlin was shaking violently now, and he stumbled to the table before falling bonelessly into one of the chairs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was born with magic, but I never wanted to put you in this position. Please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” the prince said, honestly.

“I use it for you, Arthur, only for you. You can use my magic as you wish, it’s yours.”

The prince’s mind short-circuited.

“I don’t want to _control_ your magic, Merlin- you aren’t a weapon!”

“It is my destiny to serve you, if that’s as your weapon then I will do so, happily.”

Arthur couldn’t get his head around the magnitude of that admission, so he focused on the only part he had any hope of understanding.

“Destiny?” he prompted. He had heard his friend speak of Arthur’s destiny before, always in reference to the sort of King that he might make, but never of what he thought his own destiny might be.

Merlin sighed. “There is a prophecy that you will unite all of Albion as the once and future king,” he said, like he’d heard the words a thousand times, “I am to serve at your side with my powers.”

“Unite Albion?” he echoed, certain he must have misheard. Surely there were too many ongoing conflicts throughout the land for him to solve and unite it? Merlin nodded. “Just how strong are your powers then, if you are to use them to help me?”

A little colour returned to the servant’s face, small patches of rose resting high on his cheeks as he looked away. “I am the strongest sorcerer to ever walk the Earth,” he said, still managing- somehow- to sound humble.

“ _What_?”

Merlin shrugged. “Mostly I’ve just dropped tree branches on your enemies and enchanted a few of your weapons, so far,” he said, seemingly having reached the conclusion that he had nothing worth hiding from Arthur now.

“I see,” Arthur said, hoarsely. Trust his useless servant to turn out to have the strongest magic in the lands. “Then what on _Earth_ were you thinking conjuring smoke horses in front of witnesses?”

The redness in his cheeks spread to a steadily embarrassed blush. “I hadn’t used magic in so long,” he admitted shyly, and Arthur felt his heart break a little. “I know you won’t understand but I just . . . missed using it. I thought I would be safe to use it for something fun while I was away from the castle, but I was wrong- and now Aredian knows that it was me.”

“Aredian knows it was you?” he repeated, panic rising in his chest. Merlin nodded, defeat clear in the sloping line of his shoulders.

“He said as much,” the servant confirmed, noticing the way that Arthur’s fists clenched automatically.

“I’ll see what Aredian has to say in the morning- my father has called for a meeting every morning for updates on his progress. We’ll think of something, Merlin,” the prince said, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

Merlin gave him a tight smile, his eyes still distant.

“Thanks for not, you know, throwing me on a pyre,” he said, attempting light-heartedness. Despite the poor humour, he _was_ eternally grateful for Arthur accepting him and not running straight to the King, calling for his execution.

“Don’t mention it,” Arthur grinned, his eyes lighting up when Merlin couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter.

“You _know_ I can’t mention it, you absolute clotpole,” he grumbled affectionately. There was a slight pause and then, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then?”. His voice was small and threaded with insecurity, like he was no longer sure where he stood with Arthur now everything was on the table.

“Bright and early,” the prince confirmed. “And do _try_ to get here on time. Despite apparently being the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, you really are dreadful at your time-keeping, _Mer_ lin.”

The familiar jesting eased something in Merlin’s chest, as he said goodbye and made his way down to his chamber.

*********

So immediately after Merlin leaving did the frantic knocking come on his door that he was inclined to believe the servant had left something behind. He quickly scanned his room for something belonging to the brunette but he couldn’t spot what had been forgotten.

“ _Alright_ ,” he muttered, opening the door. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist Mer- Oh, Guinevere, is everything okay?”

The woman was flushed and panting from exertion, as she stepped into his chamber without asking permission as she normally did.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, sire,” she said, through laboured breaths, “but I need to tell you something important.”

“Of course, what do you need to tell me?” he asked, pulling a chair out and gesturing for her to sit. She only hesitated for a moment before sitting down- standing before nobles had been so ingrained in her.

“Before I tell you, I don’t have any evidence that I can show you,” she said, her voice carefully even, but Arthur understood what she was asking him.

“I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Guinevere. I believe you, whatever it is that you need to tell me,” he answered, and her expression relaxed a fraction.

“I was unpacking Aredian’s belongings, and in one of the trunks he had a box,” she began, “as I was taking it out, it fell, and the lid came off. Inside the box were items that looked a lot like magical artifacts. There was also a map of the castle in it, and he’d circled Gaius’ chambers. I think Aredian means to plant the artifacts in Gaius’ rooms.” She blinked, as if her own assertiveness had taken her by surprise. “But I have no evidence beyond the artifacts and the map, and I don’t want to speculate on the actions of nobles,” she hedged, as an afterthought.

“Not Gaius’ rooms,” Arthur murmured- more to himself that to Gwen, “ _Merlin’s_.”

“Merlin?” she echoed, confused. “Why would he want to frame Merlin for having magic? N-not that I’m suggesting that Aredian would do that, I know that he’s a noble and I’m just a serv-“

“You’re right about Aredian,” Arthur interrupted, not wanting her to talk down about herself just because she felt like she was inferior. “I believe you, Gwen.”  
“What are you going to do?”

“It will take too long to explain this to my father, and – no offence intended, Gwen- but he won’t believe the words of a servant,” he thought aloud. “I’ll have to intercept his plan before he has Merlin arrested and sentenced to death.”

“Do you think he might have already put it in Merlin’s room?” she asked, her eyes full of worry for her friend.

“There’s one way to find out,” Arthur said, making his way to the door. “You don’t have to co-“

“I’m coming with you,” Gwen said, her chin lifted.

********

Gwen had found the amulet inside a jar on one of Gaius’ shelves, and the physician had been adamant that neither he nor Merlin had ever seen it before. Merlin had gone to fetch him some fresh cloth from the town, as they had been running low on clean bandages, so didn’t know of the artefact being placed in the jar. After Arthur had explained the situation to Gaius- minus the parts about his apprentice’s magic, despite being pretty sure he already knew- Gaius had thanked him profusely for stopping Aredian’s plan.

Arthur and Gwen had left the physician’s chambers after finishing their thorough search and confirming that the amulet was the only artifact in there. The prince had asked both Gaius and Gwen not to tell Merlin about the Witchfinder’s attempted framing, for fear of the worry it would cause him to know he was being targeted.

“I’ll make sure Aredian never tries anything like this again,” Arthur had said, cryptically, before they left. They had both agreed with him, just relieved that the prince had kept Merlin safe from execution.

*******

The next morning, Arthur was awoken by a beaming Merlin throwing open his curtains and declaring “It’s a good morning, this one, sire.”

The prince pulled a pillow over his eyes to block the blinding sunlight. “What’s so good about it?” he grumbled, before his memory of the night before sunk in, and he was sitting up in alert. “Are you okay?” he asked, scanning his friend for any visible bruises or injuries. The paranoia that he’d missed an artefact last night surged, and his heart pounded in his chest.

“Aredian broke into Gaius’ chambers as soon as the sun started rising, tried destroying everything in a search. He seemed really disappointed when he didn’t find anything, but your father was with him and he’s officially decided that Gaius and I aren’t sorcerers. Aredian can’t interrogate either of us now!”

A sincere smile stretched across the blonde’s lips. “That’s great, Merlin.”

Merlin beamed at him. “Oh, by the way, do you remember ages ago, when you came into my room to complain about what a mess it was?”

“How could I forget? I felt like I needed to bathe in bleach to get the germs off me after being exposed to your room,” he muttered, unable to completely conceal the affection in the words.

“It wasn’t that bad!” Merlin exclaimed. “Anyway, I had my magic book right in front of you. I thought you were going to find out I had magic and expose me to your father.”

“I would have seen it if it had been right of me, we aren’t _all_ as useless as you when it comes to finding things.”

Merlin shrugged. “I used magic right in front of you to hide it and you didn’t notice, so I think that says a lot about your ability to find things.”

“You used magic right in front of me?” Arthur spluttered, ineloquently. “Just how stupid _are_ you?”

“I’ve used magic around you plenty of times,” Merlin countered, something mischievous in his eyes. “Remember that weird clinking noise you kept hearing a few months ago?”

The prince’s eyes widened dramatically. “That was _you_! Were you trying to make me think I’d gone mad? Because it very nearly worked.”

The servant laughed loudly, “I was stealing your keys, actually.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Arthur said, with a shake of his head.

Merlin sobered at the thought of how much he’d kept from his friend over the years, and changed the topic.

“Aredian spent ten minutes sieving through one of the jars, don’t you find that odd?” he asked, and there was something unreadable in his voice.

“He’s a very thorough man,” Arthur hedged.

“It was almost like he’d been expecting to find something in there.”

“Yes, it sounds like he was,” the prince answered, evasively.

Merlin sighed. “I guess after everything you know now, you’re entitled to a few secrets of your own.”

Arthur met his gaze, and they just looked at each other for a few moments, lost in each other’s eyes.

“You didn’t keep your secret because you just felt like it, Merlin. You thought I’d _order you to be killed_ if I ever found out. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you,” Arthur said, sensing the brunette’s guilt.

“You’re right,” Merlin responded, his voice steady and unwavering. “It was hard not to tell you, but I didn’t want you to have to keep a secret from your father, not a secret as big as this.”

“You know that I will protect you,” Arthur said, half-question, half-statement.

“I know,” he said, gently. “And I will protect you, too. _Always_. It is my destiny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked this new chapter, stay safe everyone !


	5. Loyal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is based on the secret sharer episode, hope you like the final time that merlin didn't realise arthur was protecting him hehe

It had been a year since Aredian had been exposed as a fraud, earning his living through exploiting the fears of those opposed to magic- by framing innocent people with the help of unsuspecting citizens he drugged into having vivid hallucinations of magic. The year had not been peaceful, by any stretch of the word, but Merlin and Arthur had survived the various trials and tribulations they faced, the prophecies of their destiny apparently true despite Arthur’s denial that he would ever be able to unite Albion.

Morgana’s betrayal had been one such tribulation, and it was an unspoken rule that the topic was never mentioned around her half-brother.

Uther had died two months previous, of an illness that had spread so rapidly that even Merlin’s immense power hadn’t been enough to help cure him. His father’s death had hit Arthur hard, but with the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders, and his servant’s unwavering presence, he had struggled through the darkness of his grief. On the nights that Arthur voiced his concerns that he would fail Camelot or he had made a mistake in a recent ruling, Merlin would unceremoniously invite himself to sit on Arthur’s bed and promise vehemently that that wasn’t the case. If the servant often fell asleep next to him after having comforted him into the early hours of the morning, that was nobody else’s business.

Agravaine had turned up at the castle two weeks ago, and the new king was already at his wit’s end listening to Merlin tell him in a hundred different variations that his uncle had ulterior motives. The recent realisation that there was a traitor in their midst had only spurred on his empty accusations.

“He is my _uncle_ , Merlin. What possible motive could he have for betraying me?” Arthur had demanded that morning, after ignoring the barbed comments from the servant about Agravaine obviously being in cahoots with Morgana.

“How can you not think it’s suspicious that he turned up as soon as your father passed? Or that we suddenly have a traitor spilling secrets like our routes in the forest only _after_ he appears?” Merlin retorted. It was his most popular statement for trying to incriminate Agravaine.

“As I’ve told you a thousand bloody times, he obviously knew that I had been made king and needed guidance- and he has already told me that he is loyal to me as he was to my mother!” the king snapped tiredly. “You don’t know what it’s like to have this much responsibility!”

Merlin’s face fell, and Arthur’s sighed.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde apologised, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat as he let his head drop. “I know that you know what it’s like to have responsibility, especially with your magic. I just . . . Agravaine’s the only family I have left. Please don’t ruin that for me.”

Guilt stirred in the servant’s stomach as an uneasy tightness. He didn’t _want_ to upset Arthur! But for reasons that even Merlin himself didn’t understand, he just _knew_ that Agravaine was the traitor, and he couldn’t stand by and watch his friend get hurt.

“I’m not trying to ruin it for you, Arthur,” Merlin said softly. “You know that’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t want him to turn on you if there’s something I can do to prevent it.”

Arthur stood, something angry glinting in his blue eyes. “I can’t do this again. We’ve been over this for weeks. Agravaine is _not_ the traitor. Now, I need my crown polished, my room dusted, my sword sharpened, and my horses groomed. Do _not_ be in my room by the time I return.”

“Fine,” Merlin said, and although his tone was angry, there was undeniable hurt there, too. “But just because you don’t want to hear something, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. _Agravaine is the traitor_.”

Arthur sniffed once, before striding out of his chamber and leaving Merlin sitting at his table. The servant’s head dropped onto the wooden table with a small _thump_ as he sighed tiredly.

*******

“I’m not sure there’s any need,” Arthur said, as evenly as possible. The implication that Gaius was the traitor was too preposterous to even consider.

“Oh, I believe there is, sire,” his uncle responded. The king hesitated at the certainty in his uncle’s voice, his own thoughts voiced by his uncle just a moment later.

“There’s no harm in asking a few questions, is there?” Agravaine asked, and Arthur couldn’t help but agree. As much as he trusted Gaius, and as much as he was sure that the physician would never betray him, a few simple questions would prove to his uncle that there was nothing to worry about.

“Okay,” he confirmed, albeit reluctantly. “A few questions, but that’s it.”

Agravaine nodded in affirmation and bowed before he made his exit.

 _Merlin won’t approve of this,_ his mind whispered to him, _you know that Gaius isn’t the traitor._

Despite having only just agreed to it, Arthur couldn’t explain why he’d thought that questioning Gaius was an acceptable action. Gaius wasn’t the traitor, and Merlin would be beyond disappointed when he discovered that Arthur had sanctioned the interrogation. His father’s voice at the back of his thoughts yelled at him that _it doesn’t matter what servants think of you, Arthur_ but the king knew there and then he would allow no harm to come to Gaius. The decision was, of course, for Gaius’ sake, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of Merlin never forgiving him for Agravaine traumatising the old man with incessant questions.

Arthur left his chamber to go and find Gwen. He needed to keep Merlin safe, even if he was just protecting the sorcerer from an outburst against his uncle that Arthur would then be forced to punish him for. If Merlin knew that Gaius was being interrogated and made a scene, or- Gods forbid- exposed his magic, Arthur would be branded a hypocrite for allowing him to go undisciplined. He couldn’t let things go that far.

“Guinevere,” he greeted, the moment she opened her door.

“Your Highness,” she greeted in return, as she stepped aside to let him in, piling another few logs into her fireplace and tucking her untied curls behind her ears. “Is something the matter? Not that you aren’t always welcome, it’s just . . . rather late for you to be visiting,” she asked gently, when the flames had crept a little higher in the hearth.

It was only then that he registered that Gwen was in her bedclothes and she had blown out all of her candles, and shame crept up his cheeks in a pink blush. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, I didn’t realise it was so late,” he apologised. “I’ve come to ask a favour.”

“Of course, sire,” she said, turning to face him.

“I need you to take Merlin to the lower town tomorrow evening. I’m not sure what excuse would work best, but it’s imperative that he’s out of the castle for at least the hour,” the blonde explained.

Gwen nodded, as though this wasn’t a completely absurd thing for a king to ask of a servant. “There’s a man in town that’s been rather . . . _persistent_ in trying to proposition me. Merlin would come with me to keep an eye out for him if I asked, and I need to get some new materials for the seamstress anyway. She needs to make you a new tunic for the upcoming tournament but hasn’t had a chance to buy from the town’s market any yet,” Gwen said, looking to Arthur to see if he approved.

The king nodded, “thank you, Guinevere. I owe you.”

She waved him off. “Don’t be silly, Arthur. I know you wouldn’t be asking for me to get Merlin away from the castle if you weren’t looking out for him.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, not wanting to lie to her but also not wanting to discuss his constant need to keep the servant safe.

“Besides, I heard Leon and Gwaine talking about it when I was on my way to help Merlin polish your armour,” she said, before her eyes went wide and she slapped her hands over her mouth as though she could shove the spoken words back down. “I’m so sorry, sire! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop!” she blurted, hands still covering her mouth so the words were distorted.

“It’s fine,” the blonde said, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles tiredly. “Leon already shared his opinion with me. Gwaine, too.”  
Gwen didn’t say anything, but her hands slowly returned to her side and she looked at him questioningly. It was clear what she was silently asking him.

“I guess it’s true,” he sighed. “It’s not my fault that Merlin’s always putting himself in harm’s way.”  
“It’s good that he has you looking out for him,” Gwen said, a smile on her lips.

“Even if he doesn’t know it,” Arthur muttered to himself. Gwen heard his words anyway, and frowned.

“He doesn’t know you’ve been protecting him all these years?” she asked, her head tilted in confusion.

The king shrugged helplessly. “I don’t really want him to,” he admitted. “He’d read into it too much.”  
Pity flickered in Gwen’s kind brown eyes as she looked at him. “Maybe it would be good if he did, so he’d know that you’re both on the same page,” she responded, her voice steady.

He glanced up at her in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?” he asked, a little breathlessly as he considered what she might be hinting at.

She fidgeted awkwardly. “I don’t mean to intrude on a matter that doesn’t concern me, sire. I just meant . . . “

“You can tell me, Guinevere. I won’t be angry.”  
“Merlin’s cared about you for a very long time, Arthur,” she said, gently. “And I know- sorry to assume your feelings, sire- that you care about him too. I think you care about each other far more strongly than two friends normally do.”

Arthur stayed quiet, processing her words.

“You’re good together,” she said, after a few moments of silence had passed.

For some reason those three simple words completely blind-sided him, and he gasped.

“You think so?” he asked, the hopefulness in his voice almost tangible.

She nodded, a beaming smile on her face. “Yes, sire. And I think that you both know it, too.”  
********

“Have I done something wrong, sire?” Gaius queried, looking to Arthur as he took a seat opposite Agravaine. The old man wasn’t scared, and there was no fear in his voice, but there _was_ offence in his tone at having been treated like a common criminal. Discomfort settled heavily at the base of Arthur’s stomach, like a rock, and he opened his mouth to reassure the physician that this was just a routine questioning. His uncle cut him off before he could get a word out.

“What is your attitude to sorcery, Gaius?” Agravaine asked, the words fast and sharp.

As Gaius considered his answer, he looked to his king in hope of an explanation. Arthur, from where he stood at the head of the table behind his rightful seat, just watched him carefully. Maybe he would be able to find out if Gaius knew of Merlin’s magic. The physician’s face fell slightly as he reluctantly turned back to Agravaine.

“It is against the law,” Gaius stated, and the king’s right-hand man had another question ready to fire before the words had even finished being spoken.

“And do you agree with that?” he pressed. The old man must have sensed his uncle’s quickly fraying patience.

“I understand the reason for it,” he said, just as fast as Agravaine’s questions.

His uncle scoffed, a patronising smile snaking across his lips as he regarded the physician closely.

“Ah, that’s not an answer to the question that I asked,” he belittled, and the unease that Arthur felt intensified at this treatment of his oldest confidant. He stepped closer to the table, hoping that perhaps a closer proximity would comfort the physician in some way. The king wanted to stop this, and hated that he so easily could- _he was the king of Camelot_!- as he knew that he would never hear the end of it from his uncle. He hoped that humouring Agravaine’s outlandish theory that Gaius was the traitor would result in the old man being proven innocent through the interrogation.

“The law is needed to prevent the abuses that have been perpetrated by sorcorers,” Gaius began, in a way that resembled an adult trying to explain something in a simple manner to a small child.

Irritation flashed across Agravaine’s features as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Can I ask you to be a little more direct with your answers?” he asked slowly, in that same, condescending tone he had used for his previous question. “Do you agree that magic should be banned? _Yes_ or _no_.”

“Yes,” Gaius answered, after only a slight hesitation.

“Have you ever practised sorcery?” his uncle asked, and this was where Arthur drew the line.

“You know as well as I did that he used to,” the king finally interjected. “There is no point in making Gaius go over information that we already have. Do you have anything else to ask or can we stop this now?”

He hoped his uncle was finished: partly so Gaius could leave and partly so Arthur could ensure that this was all wrapped up well before Merlin was set to return with Guinevere. Besides, what else was there to ask? Arthur had known from before this questioning had even _started_ that Gaius wasn’t the traitor.

“Just a few more questions,” Agravaine answered, not taking his eyes off Gaius as he spoke. Arthur sighed.

“Quickly, then,” Arthur instructed.

“I take it you’ve heard that Arthur’s routes through the forest got leaked to our enemies?” his uncle asked the physician.

“Yes, and I know that not many people had access to this information.”

“But _you_ did,” Agravaine observed, something sly on his face that had Arthur taking another step towards Gaius. He wasn’t sure where this instinct to keep Agravaine away from Gaius had suddenly come from.

“You know I did,” Gaius answered, before turning away from Agravaine to look at Arthur, who couldn’t bring himself to meet the physician’s eyes. “Arthur, you know I would never betray you.”

“I know,” the king answered, meaning it. “My uncle just wished to make sure.”  
“Are we done here then?” the old man asked, gingerly starting to get to his feet.

“Yes, thank you Gaius,” Arthur said, at the exact same time his uncle snapped “No. Sit _down_ , Gaius.”

Gaius ignored Agravaine, clearly choosing to heed the words of his king instead and tucked his chair back in when he was standing.

“You are not finished until I dismiss you, Gaius,” Agravaine warned. Arthur looked at his uncle as though he were a stranger.

“Uncle, we have all the information we need. I already knew that Gaius was innocent, these questions were just to prove it to you,” the king responded sharply, letting his authority bleed into the words in a way that he didn’t normally use around those he trusted. Agravaine looked at him, annoyance etched into every line of his face. Gaius stood where he was, a few steps away from the seat he had been in, but unsure as to whether he was really supposed to leave yet.

“Well, if you don’t believe it was your knights, and you don’t believe it was Gaius, that only leaves Merlin,” Agravaine said, in a manner that suggested that Arthur was misjudging those he considered trustworthy.

“It wasn’t Merlin, uncle. Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur snapped, his temper rising.

“You said yourself that you would vouch for each and every one of your knights, and you are adamant that Gaius here is innocent. Merlin is just a servant,” his uncle said, “perhaps times are tough for him- perhaps he needed some extra money. Serving staff can always be bought for the right price, they have no sense of loyalty. They don’t understand the concept.”  
“ _Merlin is not the traitor_ ,” Arthur snarled, his fists clenching at his sides. “Do not suggest that again.”

Agravaine stood quickly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, and threw his hands up in surrender.

“I meant no offence, sire,” he simpered, and there was something unrecognisable hiding in his tone.

“Get out of my sight,” the king ordered, eyes blazing.

The door was shut behind him not a second later, leaving Arthur and Gaius alone in the hall.

The blonde slumped forward as his temper deflated, and he sat heavily in the chair his uncle had just vacated.

“I’m sorry about that, Gaius,” Arthur apologised, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my boy,” the old man comforted. “And might I assume that Gwen urgently needing fabric and Merlin having to accompany her might be your doing?”

“I thought it would be best if he didn’t know of your questioning- that he might get himself into trouble trying to keep you away from Agravaine. He doesn’t think too kindly of my uncle.”  
The physician nodded. “You’re quite right, sire,” he agreed, before casting a quick glance towards the door. “You protected him from doing something he would end up regretting; his magic is far more temperamental when he experiences intense emotions, it’s likely he would have given himself away if he knew your uncle was interrogating me.”

Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise, and Gaius chuckled.

“I have known since his first day in Camelot,” the man said, smiling. “Merlin told me that you had seen him do magic the same night that you confessed to him that you knew.”  
“Oh,” the blonde said, ineloquently. He felt the strange urge to defend himself. “I don’t think any differently of him. I mean, um, obviously I understand now why he always speaks of protecting me, and I get that all this time he truly _has_ been keeping me safe from our enemies.”

“That’s reassuring to hear, sire. He also tells me that he informed you of the prophecy.”

“Yes,” the king said, coughing once to clear his throat. “Our destinies are connected.”

The old man looked at him knowingly, and Arthur broke their eye contact in favour of the floor.

Eventually, Gaius spoke again. “Merlin will be back soon. Would you like me to give him a message?”

“Tell him to meet me in my chamber, please, I think it’s long past time I tell him something I’ve been meaning to tell him for a while,” Arthur said, and then the two men said their farewells and left the hall.

******

Arthur was facing the window when Merlin walked in.

“Gaius said you asked for me?” the servant asked, as he came and stood opposite Arthur, the darkness casting shadows across his pale skin.

“Yes,” Arthur began, still unprepared for what exactly he was going to say, “I want to talk to you about something.” Worry filled the brunette’s face, and Arthur was surprised by how strongly the need to erase it filled him. “It’s nothing bad!” he blurted, “at least, I hope it isn’t. Do you want to sit down?”  
“Um, sure,” Merlin said, a tinge of anxiety still staining the words, but he sat at Arthur’s table regardless and the king took the seat next to him. The candles on the table between them flickered, small tendrils of smoke rising steadily.

He took the servant’s hands in his, meeting Merlin’s hopeful smile with one of his own.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way,” Arthur started, his heart hammering in his chest. Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise, and he squeezed Arthur’s hands in encouragement. “I wanted to say that-“

An alarm screamed from the corridor and both men were on their feet in an instant, alert and focused. The moment was ruined. Merlin ran to the window to survey the courtyard as Arthur quickly buckled his sword to his belt. Whatever Merlin saw in the courtyard had his face falling and he glanced at Arthur in concern.

“What’s out there?” Arthur asked as he finished tightening the last part of his armour that he could reach. Merlin moved behind him to take over without even needing to be asked.

“Morgana,” the servant said, his voice wavering, “she has an army with her and they’ve already infiltrated the northern entrance. Agravaine’s with her, I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending leads into the end of season 4 as canon, but this is the end of the 5 times that Merlin didn't know Arthur was protecting him- now we just have the 1 time he did !  
> hope you liked this chapter and sorry about almost getting them to confess their love and then taking it away from you :))))


	6. Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: as is canon, merlin has already killed morgana with excalibur (just wanted to make sure this was clear as i don't focus on that in this chapter)  
> anyway! we made it to the last chapter- where merlin finally realises that arthur is protecting him- i hope you like it !!

Merlin stood face-to-face with Mordred, the bodies of Camelot’s enemies strewn across the ground. The servant could see King Arthur in the distance as he checked on his men and helped the injured to their feet. Merlin knew everything would okay now- Arthur was away from Mordred, the battle of Camlann was nearly over, and Mordred’s sword was plunging towards _his_ heart instead of Arthur’s.

He had defeated the prophecy.

_Arthur would live._

Time seemed to slow as Mordred’s face morphed from raging anger to triumphant victory, his sword hand thrusting with perfect aim towards Merlin’s heart. Merlin closed his eyes, having already accepted his fate, but his eyes burned like liquid gold beneath his closed eyelids as he threw his hands forward, towards Mordred.

_Merlin had to protect Arthur, no matter the cost. It was his destiny._

He was willing to- proud to, even- die in Arthur’s place; it was his destiny to protect the once and future king, and relief overcame him as he realised that he was going kill Mordred as Mordred killed him. The younger sorcerer would never have the opportunity to kill Arthur- the prophecy would be fulfilled, and Arthur would unite Albion. All would be right in the world. There was a prevalent pang of regret that he would not be at his friend’s side, but he pushed it aside to face his duty.

Just as his magic reached his fingertips, the power strong and capable, Mordred’s sword was only a few inches from the servant’s chest, and then Merlin heard a yell unlike any other he had ever heard.

The sound was full of such pain, such _anguish_ \- like someone was witnessing everything they held dear to them crumbling beneath their fingertips- that Mordred’s thrust faltered for a second as it registered.

That second was all that the source of the sound needed in order to shove Merlin to the side, and the servant’s eyes flew open involuntarily as he landed heavily in the mud. His limbs sunk into the mud with a sickening squelch before he whirled around in frantic panic to see what had just happened. Terror seized him as he took in the scene before him. It was everything he had hoped he would never have to witness.

Arthur fell to his knees, and from his line of sight all Merlin could see- all his mind would _allow_ him to see- was the sword buried hilt-deep in Arthur’s chest and the blood-stained blade protruding from his back. The blade glinted in the weak evening sunlight, tauntingly. The servant scrambled to his friend’s side, not even bothering to get to his feet, just clawing at the mud and grass until he had his hands cupping Arthur’s face desperately. The man’s face grew colder and paler by the second, and Merlin felt every cell in his body scream in protest.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin breathed, the name falling from his lips as some sort of prayer for divine intervention, a _ny_ intervention. Anything that could save his friend. “ _Arthur_.”

“It’s going to be okay, Merlin,” Arthur promised, his voice weak and his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. There was a faint rattle at the back on the blonde’s throat, and a rivulet of blood fell from his lips like a teardrop. “ _Thank you_. For everything.”

Arthur’s hands lifted, holding Merlin’s hands against his cheeks, and Merlin felt his heart stop as the king’s lashes fluttered a few times, and then stayed closed. The hands holding his in place on his cheeks fell, and Merlin’s world fell with it.

“ _No_!” he cried desperately, imbuing the adamant refusal with pure, unadulterated magic so it carried across Camlann for miles and miles and _miles_. Even centuries later, the legends would tell the tale of how brightly Emry’s eyes had radiated- the colour so luminous that his remaining enemies had been blinded. He knew deep down that returning life to the dead meant taking a life from the living, and so as he cast the spell he offered himself up, fearlessly, in Arthur’s place. His magic flowed through him like a catalyst, until Arthur’s entire body was radiating the same blinding gold as Merlin’s eyes. The action was instinctual, like breathing. Merlin felt nothing.

The colour disappeared all at once, and the king took in a heaving, shuddering breath. Merlin rushed to make the most of the small overlap they likely had before the magic claimed him for its own, now that Arthur was back.

“Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed, the awe tangible in his voice. The king sat up slowly, the sword having disappeared when the servant had brought him back to life- there was not a single blemish anywhere that Merlin could see. Even his chainmail was undamaged and shining like it had been freshly polished. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he soothed, the moment he caught the furrowed brow on the king’s face. Arthur blinked confusedly, before his eyes widened with realisation.

“You saved me,” Arthur murmured, taking Merlin’s hand in his own and holding it against his chest to reassure the sorcerer that he was alive and breathing. The king’s body stiffened, the strong lines of his shoulder growing rigid in alarm as he frantically ran his eyes over Merlin’s body, searching for injuries. “You _saved_ me,” he repeated, this time with emphasis. He scanned Merlin again, running a hand lightly over the servant’s clothes, checking where his eyes couldn’t. “Who took my place? Merlin, please tell me you didn’t- promise me you- you can’t have- _Merlin_ -“ he stammered, eyes wide and frightened.

Merlin offered him a small smile. “It is my destiny to protect you,” he said, simply, and the blood instantly drained from Arthur’s face.

He felt a pull from his magic, then, and his eyes briefly flared gold as the pull called his attention towards Mordred’s body.

When Arthur had fallen to his knees a few moments before, Mordred had fallen backwards, the king’s sword plunged through his chest as his hands bracketed the sword-handle in shock. His eyes had been wide and surprised as he landed on his side. His chest had shuddered once, twice, thrice, and then became still and unmoving. The sorcerer’s eyes had fallen closed. They had not reopened.

In a sudden rush of clarity, Merlin understood.

“The magic has already taken a life,” he explained to Arthur, who still held Merlin’s hand tightly- like he would be able to keep the servant alive against magic’s bargain with his sheer force of will. “It knew that I would bring you back. It’s taken Mordred’s life in place of yours, so that you can fulfil your destiny as the once and future king.”

The blonde’s exhale was so deep that Merlin absently wondered if he had been holding his breath from the moment he had been brought back to life.

“You’re safe,” the king said, and it left no room for arguing. “We’re both safe, now.”  
Merlin nodded, gingerly getting to his feet and offering a hand up to Arthur, who accepted.

“Never sacrifice yourself for me, Merlin,” Arthur ordered, but his voice was shaky and it undermined the authority he had been aiming for. Without thinking twice, Merlin brought his lips to the king’s, sealing their mouths together. They poured every ounce of fear and pain and emotion into the kiss, and didn’t pull apart until they were both dizzy from it.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Merlin said, dazedly, twining their hands together as they started the walk back to Gwen and Gauis’ temporary medical tent.

“What, kiss me?” Arthur asked, his voice hesitant like he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the implication that the king _wanted_ him to say yes.

“Yeah,” Merlin said softly, as he pulled open the tent’s entry flap and let the king enter before him.

Arthur turned to wait for Merlin to catch up before he leaned in a little, so his lips brushed the servant’s ear. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, too,” he whispered, a faint blush rising in his cheeks.

“What took you so long!” Gaius exclaimed, rushing over to them as fast as he could. The two younger men shared a panicked glance, wondering how on earth the physician had heard the conversation when they’d been so quiet, before he spoke again and they understood that he wasn’t talking about their recent action. “We’ve been looking all over for you both, Leon was about to get Percival and Gwaine to send out a search party.”

“I never knew they cared,” Arthur grinned, that lop-sided grin that Merlin loved so much.

“Are either of you injured?” the physician asked, before he caught sight of the blonde’s immaculate appearance. “Why are you so clean, sire? I know that Merlin would never be able to polish your armour that well.”

“ _Hey_!” Merlin squawked indignantly, before shooting the older man a pointed look. “And it’s a long story. Arthur’s completely fine.” The words brought with them the dizzying relief of its truth. Arthur _was_ completely fine, and he would stay that way for a long, long time if Merlin had any say in it.

“Ah, I see,” Gaius answered, knowing from experience that this meant magic had been involved. “Are you injured at all, Merlin?”

“No, I’m fine,” he brushed off, “just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“If you say so,” Gaius said, dubiously. “If you’ll excuse me, then, I must tend to the injured knights.”

“Of course. Thank you, Gaius,” Arthur said, his voice sincere.

Gaius inclined his head respectfully and then made his way to the huddle of recently arrived knights- one of whom was sporting a rather long, painful looking gash along his calf.

Arthur turned to Merlin. “We should start packing up to head back to Camelot.”

The servant nodded in agreement. “I’ll ask the uninjured knights to help us.”

When the blonde agreed, they both separated to ask different groups to help them. When they had sufficient men assisting them, the packing seemed to fly by. It always seemed much faster to clear out after a war than it did to prepare it, the weight of dread heavy on the knights before they left to fight, slowing their actions. Eventually, their surroundings were completely bare, save for the bodies of their enemies, the fields stretching on as far as the eye could see.

Camelot’s people mounted their horses and headed back for the kingdom with the moon basking them in a gentle white glow.

By the time they arrived home, hungry and battle-weary, the sun was steady in the sky, its golden rays warming them like an embrace.

\-----------

After having ridden for almost ten hours straight without any rest from the war, every person that had travelled was dead on their feet. Arthur trudged up the stairs, Merlin on his tail, and fell face-first onto his bed when he was back in his chamber.

The servant hovered uncertainly for a moment before he started unbuckling the king’s chainmail while he laid down.

“Leave it,” the blonde murmured, already sounding half-asleep.

“You can’t sleep in chainmail, Arthur,” Merlin pointed out, even as his eyes drooped against another wave of fatigue.

“Watch me,” he muttered, nearly incoherently.

Merlin sighed. “Fine, but don’t think that I’m going to help you get changed out of it tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

With that, the servant turned to make his way to the door, his eyes slipping closed involuntarily and causing him to bump into the corner of the table. He swore colourfully and saw that Arthur had forced himself into sitting upright at the sound, worry etched into the tired lines on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and his lips moved sluggishly around the syllables.

“Mmhmm. Just tired.” He turned to try and successfully leave the king’s chambers this time, when Arthur’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Stay,” Arthur asked, slightly slurred.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked, despite his joy at not having to trek across the castle to get to his own bed.

The king nodded lazily, before he fell backwards and rolled himself underneath his quilt.

“Um, okay. If you’re sure.” Merlin tugged his boots off with his vision blurred from exhaustion, before tucking himself, fully-clothed, under Arthur’s quilt.

They were both asleep before their heads had hit the ridiculously soft pillows.

\----------

The first thing that Arthur was aware of when he woke up was the warmth coming from his right side and the slight dip of his mattress. He turned his head, clumsily throwing a hand up to shield his eyes when he realised the sun was filtering through the unclosed curtains and saw a familiar brunette sleeping softly. His brow furrowed in confusion before the events of Camlann returned to him, and he remembered the bone-deep exhaustion they had all been suffering from. He let himself close his eyes and doze for a while, content to just bask in the knowledge that Merlin was safe and resting beside him.

When he awoke again later, Merlin was laying on his back with his fingers intertwined behind his head as he looked up with a small smile on his lips.

“Morning,” Arthur murmured, not wanting to burst the peaceful bubble around them. The servant rolled onto his side so he could look at Arthur.

“I think you mean afternoon,” he said playfully, but his voice was quiet. “We’ve been asleep since yesterday afternoon. It’s nearly been a full day.”

The king sat up abruptly, pulling the quilt back and quickly getting to his feet. His chainmail clinked with every movement and he suddenly cursed not letting Merlin take it off for him the previous day.

“There was a council meeting scheduled for this afternoon and I need to be there- it’s for lowering taxes for the townspeople who truly can’t afford it! Help me get this chainmail off,” Arthur rambled, pulling uselessly at the intricate buckles and only ceasing when Merlin reached his side and took over with practised ease.

“The council meeting is postponed,” Merlin said, always Arthur’s primary voice of reason. “Every member of the council was at the battle yesterday, they’re all resting. I’m sure we can offer the impacted citizens a tax refund until the lowering is sorted out.”

A relieved exhale escaped the king. “Oh,” he sighed. Embarrassment had his gaze dropping as he realised that he should have put that together. After his father’s death, he had stayed true to the plan he had proposed to Merlin all those years ago as they had laid side by side in his chamber, staring at the ceiling. He had dismissed Uther’s councilmen and instead opted for the people that he trusted to have Camelot’s best interests at heart, and that would be willing to tell him the truth if they believed he was making an error. He had always hated watching his father’s councilmen stand by and letting the king make an obvious mistake for fear of his wrath if they questioned his decision. The council he had chosen was just a select few: Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Gaius, Gwen, Merlin, and two of Merlin and Gwen’s trusted friends that worked in the lower town, Annabeth and Gregor. The reasoning behind Annabeth and Gregor’s inclusion was that the best way to address and resolve the problems facing the citizens of the lower town community was to have direct representatives that could bring the issues forward directly, as spokespeople. Gwen and Merlin had known the pair for years, and had vouched that they had always been honest and friendly, having run a fabric stall and a blacksmith service respectively.

Merlin removed the last of Arthur’s chainmail, leaving him in his underclothes, and led him to a chair at the table. Arthur absently took a seat but glanced up at Merlin when he felt the servant’s hands start rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders. He felt his aching muscles relax at the brunette’s movements, and his eyes slipped closed.

“That feels really good,” Arthur said softly. The slight twitch he felt in the hands on his shoulders told him that Merlin had shrugged.

“Figured you needed it. Even clotpoles like you occasionally do some actual hard work,” he said, and the king could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’ll have you know that putting up with your terrible serving is the hardest work that anyone in Camelot can do, and I do it _daily_. You should be admiring me,” Arthur said with mock-smugness, and Merlin’s smile dimmed slightly. 

“I do admire you,” Merlin answered, and the words carried a weight that Arthur didn’t feel he was worthy of. A pleased sound suddenly slipped from the blonde’s lips involuntarily as Merlin loosened a particularly tight knot between his shoulder blades with nimble fingers. He sobered again as the servant’s words echoed in his mind.

“I admire you, too. More than you’ll ever know,” Arthur said honestly. “All those years you had to keep your true self hidden, protecting me from danger I didn’t even know existed and not getting an ounce of thanks for it. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been.”

A beat of silence passed, Merlin’s hands deftly working away at the juncture between the king’s shoulders and neck.

“You know that I didn’t do any of it for thanks,” he eventually said, something unreadable in his voice. Without thinking about it, Arthur’s hands rose to take Merlin’s hands from his shoulders, twining their fingers together as the servant took the chair next to him. They both turned a little so they could look the other in the eye; equal levels of sincerity and warmth were mirrored in their faces, and for once they didn’t shy away from it. “You know why I did it,” Merlin said quietly, something desperate tinging the words where Arthur had expected accusation.

“I think so,” Arthur answered, even though it hadn’t been a question. “You protect me for the same reason that I will always, _always_ protect you.”

Merlin shivered at the intimacy of his words. “And what reason is that?” he asked, hope flickering in his eyes like candlelight.

“Because I love you,” Arthur finally said, like it was that simple. Maybe it _was_ that simple. He found that the confession didn’t scare him as much as it used to.

Merlin got to his feet, stepping closer to Arthur as he held their hands together tightly- like it was possible to merge them into one being. The king’s breath caught as he waited for an answer, his heart racing.

“I love you, too,” Merlin answered, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The air felt charged, _electric_ even, like the sharp zap of static.

“We’re destined to be together,” Merlin continued, softly. “You know it just as well as I do.”

Arthur stood in front of the man he loved, so closely their noses nearly bumped together. They felt the warmth of each other’s breaths, like they shared air in a joint body.

“Do you want that?” the king asked the servant, his body tensing like he was expecting Merlin to strike him. As much as he knew that he could never get Merlin to do as he was told, he suddenly felt a flash of fear that maybe he was pressuring the servant into this. He repeated his question again, making sure to emphasise that this was a mutual decision. “Do you want . . . us?”

The brunette’s eyes flickered down to Arthur’s lips before returning to those deep blue eyes that he could lose himself in for days. There had never been any doubt in either of their minds that this was what they wanted: that they were each other’s destiny.

It was them. It had always been them.

He pulled Arthur closer as his answer, their lips brushing together and then parting for the other.

_Yes,_ Merlin thought as Arthur breathed his name like a prayer _,_ the years of longing washing away _, I want_ us _. I want_ us _for the rest of eternity, for as long you’ll have me- until the sun burns itself out and we are holding hands in the afterglow, rejoicing._

Their kiss felt like it had been hand-crafted by destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the love and comments since this fic started, it means the absolute world to me, and i hope you liked this chapter <3333  
> (i have another merthur fic called 'what they owe us' if you'd like another story about our fav boys but i'll probably be back with another merlin/arthur fic soon hehe)  
> xxxx

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are greatly appreciated ! see you for the next chapter xx


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